


Then Began Again

by fierybeams



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Innocence, M/M, Rimming, Roleplay, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 18:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fierybeams/pseuds/fierybeams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt wants to do something special for Blaine’s birthday. Blaine requests that he roleplay as his younger, seventeen-year-old self. Conversation, anxieties, and lots and lots of smut ensue. Featuring blowjobs, rimming, fingering, anal, and light spanking. Warnings for some reference to Kurt’s experiences with bullying and assault in season two. Written for <a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/48822.html?thread=62876086#t62876086">this prompt</a> on the GKM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Began Again

Kurt’s sitting over a stack of banana pancakes, the mingled smells of warm maple syrup and dark roast coffee livening his senses to full post-waking alertness, when he finally works up the nerve to ask. 

“So,” he begins, raising his mug to his lips, perfectly casual. “Is there anything…special you’d like me to do for your birthday?” 

Kurt ogles Blaine carefully where he’s sitting across from him at the table, bare-chested and still slightly sleep-ruffled. Wrinkling his brow in mild confusion, Blaine takes a sip of coffee before replying.

“Special? Kurt, you’ve had a ‘low-key but lavish’ party the Saturday before and a romantic dinner the night of planned for, like, a month now.”

Kurt chews on his bottom lip, mentally weighing how best to specifically rephrase the question without being too lewd. They do (blissfully) live alone now, but it’s new, and the “no explicit sex talk outside of the bedroom” rule that Kurt himself had instated back when they were still juggling hordes of nosy roommates has been difficult to shake off. 

“Well, the romantic dinner is only part of it,” Kurt feels his cheeks flush, but is pleased to note that it’s not out of embarrassment. Kurt and Blaine live alone now. They’re getting married; they fuck loudly and adventurously and they _talk_  about it. With Rachel’s exit, they’ve finally found the freedom to abandon the perpetual nervousness that had limited the scope of their high school sex lives: Kurt doesn’t have to worry about being heard, or about anxiously eyeing his phone to make sure his dad isn’t calling. He feels suddenly bold and lustful, perfectly capable of asking his fiancé naughty questions over breakfast. He inhales, eyes bright. “Is there anything special you’d like me to do for you in bed?”

Blaine very nearly chokes on a forkful of pancake. Kurt quickly hands him a glass of water, shoulders tense, trying hard not to lose the pleasant tingle that voicing his question allowed had induced. 

Swallowing, Blaine looks up at Kurt, a cheeky smile adorning his glowing face. “Oh! I see. Special, as in…bedroom special. So you mean like…”

“Anything you want, that we haven’t tried. There’s a lot. I’m guessing.”

“Anything?” Blaine looks excited, devilishly so.  _Suspiciously_  so, Kurt decides.

“Well, anything within reason,” Kurt briskly amends, eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to let you piss or shit on me or anything like that.”

“Ew, Kurt. I’m  _eating_ ,” Blaine is silent for a moment, contemplative. “What even makes you think I would—” 

“I don’t know, you’re the one with the porn-strewn past!”

“Oh my god, Kurt, what kind of porn do you think I watch?”

Kurt’s laughing before he can stop himself, relieved when Blaine joins him after a moment of affronted glaring. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” he promises, quieting. “Your face just did a thing I’ve never seen it do before and I worried.” 

Blaine playfully rolls his eyes, smirking a little. “So does your question still stand, or did I ruin my shot by looking criminally enthusiastic?”

“It still stands.”

Blaine eyes him, looking dubious. “I don’t know, I feel like you’re going to judge me now.” His voice is light, but not quite light enough to conceal the genuine self-doubt underpinning it. 

Kurt scoots his chair closer to Blaine, grabbing a soft hand in his. “I won’t judge you, not ever. Even if I object, I’ll just say no, but I won’t think any less of you. No matter what. I want to see if I can do this for you.” Kurt deploys his sweetest, most dangerous smile, the close-lipped one that makes his eyes go all crinkly. Blaine often melts in the face of it, and he  _really_  wants to know what Blaine is suddenly feeling too shy to request of him. 

“What if I really did want to pee on you?” 

Kurt very resolutely does not wince. “You don’t.” 

“I don’t know, I do have that illicit  _porn-strewn past_  and all…” 

“Blaine, stop, I already apologized for—” Blaine’s face cracks into renewed laughter before Kurt can even finish his sentence. Kurt lightly swats him on the hip. “Stop torturing me and tell me what you want already. There’s only about a week left and it may require extensive preparation, and you obviously have _something_  in mind or you wouldn’t be deferring the actual answering of the question.”

“I do have something in mind. It shouldn’t require  _extensive preparation_ , though, what sex act could possibly even require preparation starting over a week in advance?”

“Blaine,” is all Kurt says, voice firm. He’s tiring of this dance. 

“Okay, okay. Fine. So…you know the other day, when we were showering together? And  the shower stream was running over your head while you were, you know, blowing me, and when you looked up your hair was pressed flat against your forehead? And I said—”

“And you said I looked twelve years old, yes, I remember,” Kurt interrupts drily, eyes flat.

“I didn’t…I didn’t say  _twelve_ ,” Blaine defends himself. 

“You did.” Kurt remembers his cum had tasted especially bitter sliding down his throat after that, but he’d quietly let it go as soon as Blaine had moved to stroke his cock to hardness. 

“Well, I meant older. Like…sixteen, say.”

Blaine’s eyes are wide and expectant, like Kurt is supposed to draw some obvious conclusion in the retelling of this irksome memory. Kurt raises his eyebrows when Blaine only continues to stare. “Okay. And?” 

“And…it just got me thinking. If you let your hair dry like that, swept down, you could easily look just the way you did the day we met. In high school.”

“I was seventeen when we met.”

“Oh. Sorry. Seventeen. You looked seventeen.” 

“My hair wasn’t even swept down when we met!”

“I know, I remember,” Blaine replies, sounding defensive. “But it just makes your face look softer somehow, the way it did back then.”

“Okay,” Kurt begins, trying to make sense of this. “So you just want me to…style my hair down? And…look younger?” He’s trying hard not to be offended.

“Well, not just that,” Blaine is looking shy again, face pinching. “You remember that outfit you were in? The faux-schoolboy look? With the shorts and the knee-high boots?”

“Do I strike you as the type to forget an outfit? Especially an outfit as important as that one?” Kurt smiles, warm, because Blaine looks a little nervous and Kurt knows his palpable irritation at being freshly reminded of the shower incident isn’t helping. 

“Well, I’d want you to wear that. Or something similar that achieves the same effect. With your hair down.”

“Okay. I’m not sure I get it, but that seems…simple enough.” 

“There’s more.” 

“Oh god.”

“You asked.” 

“I know. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Continue.” 

“If this was a thing that we were doing, and it doesn’t have to be…” He looks over at Kurt, rushed and careful, waiting for Kurt to nod encouragingly before continuing. “Well, I would like it if you…roleplayed. As your younger self. The one I met that afternoon on the Dalton staircase. Seventeen-year-old, never-been-kissed-by-a-boy you.” His voice is rushed and breathless, and Kurt can practically hear the surging thrash of Blaine’s heartbeat.

“Oh,” Kurt realizes now that this was obviously where it had been heading from the beginning, but he’s still surprised. And…unsure. He needs a minute. “And…and what about you? Will you also be roleplaying as your younger self?”

“No, I’d like to be my current self. Meeting you.”

“And why would you be hanging around your old high school, preying on lonely teenagers?” Kurt is careful to keep his tone playful despite the uncertainty twisting low in his belly. He understands why Blaine had been postponing answering the original question earlier. He’s feeling, suddenly, much the same way. 

“I don’t know. I could be visiting instructors. Or something. That detail isn’t terribly important.”

“So you’d just…what? Take me? Right there? On the staircase?”

“I was thinking I’d drag you to an empty classroom.” Blaine’s biting his lip, pupils wide. Kurt can’t deny he’s enjoying the fact that he’s managing to get so worked up just  _pitching_  this.

“Hm. So the workspace area could work for that, then.”

“Yeah, that would be amazing,” Blaine’s cheeks are tinged pink, face disbelieving.

“So you’d fuck me in an empty classroom. Just like that, same day, right on the spot.” At Blaine’s nod, Kurt continues visualizing the scenario, no less than sixteen complications immediately coming to mind. “Ugh, Blaine, I hadn’t even _showered_  since the morning at that point of the day, let alone—”

Blaine sighs. “Kurt, oh my god. It’s a fantasy, don’t micromanage it. Real-you can do all that stuff beforehand, of course. Assuming you want to do any of it to begin with, I mean.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, moving his head forward to kiss Blaine on the cheek. “Thank you for sharing this with me. Is it okay if…is it okay if I think about it before agreeing to anything? Just a day or so.”

“Of course. Thank you for thinking about it, and for asking. I wasn’t expecting that,” Blaine looks down at this phone where it’s lying beside his half-eaten breakfast, swearing softly under his breath. “I’m running late to class. I need to shower. And also jerk off. I’d ask you to join me, but you look like you need some time to think.”

Kurt twists his mouth up. “Tempted as I am, I sadly think you’re right about me needing some think time,” Kurt kisses Blaine, mouth open and a little dirty, before dropping a hand to one of his small nipples and pinching softly. “Maybe that can get you started, though.”

“I’ve been ready to go for the past ten minutes,” Blaine confesses with a moan, standing up and palming the conspicuous bulge poking out of his worn plaid pajama pants.

Kurt laughs and watches him go, fighting the rush of heat creeping up his neck in favor of resuming work on the breakfast Blaine had so lovingly put together for him. 

After Kurt has finished up his pancakes, slowly washed the dishes, and received an especially warm goodbye from a shampoo-and-gel-scented Blaine, he decides it’s time to sit down to process the nuances of Blaine’s request and come to a conclusion about his own capacity to comply. He moves to his room, closing the curtain behind him despite the knowledge that he’s guaranteed full solitude until well into the afternoon. 

Kurt hadn’t really known what to expect from this experiment. Given the spacious realm of sexual possibility he knows Blaine possesses full knowledge of, he supposes his confessed desire was fairly tame, all things considered. He’s actually surprised they haven’t thought to try roleplaying sooner, given their combined acting prowess and creative powers of imagination.

But being asked to perform a past variant of  _himself_ , a person that Kurt lived, breathed, and suffered as…it gives him pause. It’s not that he doesn’t get the appeal. With his watery-eyed fragility and carefully crafted schoolboy aesthetic, Kurt sees now that he’d been something of a cheesy porn trope just waiting to happen. And Blaine  _had_  so recently admitted how much he’d loved feeling obliged to take care of Kurt back then, an avowal that had made sense to Kurt even as it’d left him feeling a little wounded, despite himself.

While Kurt has nothing but rapturous memories of that first encounter on the staircase and what followed it, the fact of the matter is that that hadn’t been a particularly joyous time in his life. Blaine had been a much-needed beam of warmth and support, yes, but that bliss nonetheless was inextricable from all the pain that had brought it into being. He’d met Blaine when he was at his most desperate and terrified, just before the Karofsky debacle had hit its hellish climax. 

The Karofsky of it all is at the root of Kurt’s hesitance, he realizes. There’s no getting around the reality of the fact that any excitement Kurt might feel at bringing his younger self into a sexual context for Blaine’s pleasure is hampered by the knowledge that that version of himself had  _already_ featured in fantasies of a more frightening sort that he’d had no control over.

Kurt feels Blaine’s breakfast turn in his stomach, his hands going clammy. He hates to think about this, to dwell on the recognition that his first experience of being on the receiving end of desire was so embroiled within violence and hate, the specter of a closed fist hanging over him and bruising hands on his neck.

Blaine desired him in that form  _now_ , but he hadn’t back then, at least not at first, and not for a long while. Kurt isn’t ridiculous enough to hold that against him, but it does make the thought of re-occupying that headspace, however artificially, a little difficult. There had been a time when Kurt genuinely thought Karofsky’s leers, threatening touches, and blackening kiss would be the only thing he ever got. He knows better now, but he isn’t sure he feels comfortable donning the facade of a version of himself that was only ever sexualized on terms he had no say in deciding.

Kurt frowns, running a hand over his neck. He hates the thought of denying Blaine this after Blaine had opened up about wanting something he was clearly a little unsure about sharing. Surely there’s a way to spin this in a manner that makes the whole thing more appealing. Surely he could use this opportunity to _find_  something that he’d felt effaced of back then, at seventeen. He can’t change the past, but he  _can_ re-signify his own perception of it. Maybe this could help him take back that dark corner of his brain that made revisiting certain periods of his life so painful. He finds himself suddenly curious to know what it might feel like to tap into the sexuality he’d been so scared of then. The hand at his neck dips down to his collarbone, absently stroking as Kurt considers the possibilities of what this could be for him. And for Blaine, of course. 

It would make Blaine happy. Surely that alone would be worth it. Decision quietly made, Kurt gets on his knees and reaches under the bed. He  _knows_  he still has those shorts lying around in a box somewhere. 

***

_To Blaine (11:13 AM):_  Okay, I’ve come to a decision. Birthday night role-play is a go. 

_To Kurt (11:16 AM)_ : OMG Kurt really?? I love you so much

_To Blaine (11:17 AM)_ : I was thinking of passing by the mall to test out some blush shades. I think a rosy cheek would really make the whole thing more authentic, and none of the shades that Rachel left behind are appropriate for my skin tone.

_To Blaine (11:17 AM)_ : It would be tastefully applied, of course. I don’t want to look painted.

_To Kurt (11:18 AM)_ : You didn’t have to clarify, I knew it would be tasteful 

_To Blaine (11:19 AM)_  Good. Is there anything else I can do to heighten the experience for you? I’m looking for the shorts now.

_To Kurt (11:29 AM)_ : Would you think it totally creepy if I asked how you feel about shaving or waxing

_To Kurt (11:36 AM)_ : It was totally creepy okay please just forget I asked

_To Blaine (11:37 AM)_ : Hold on, I’m not avoiding the question out of anger, I’m trying the shorts on.

_To Kurt (11:37 AM)_ : Oh okay. Send a pic?

_To Blaine (11:41 AM)_ : No, it’s going to be a surprise. These shorts still fit, but they’re significantly shorter than they were back then. Should I buy new ones?

_To Kurt (11:41 AM)_ : Don’t you dare

  _To Blaine (11:44 AM)_ : Ha. Thought that might be your reaction. So, about the shaving and/or waxing business. Which areas did you have in mind?

_To Kurt (11:45 AM)_ : As much or as little as you feel comfortable with, it’s not necessary though, it was just an idea

_To Blaine (11:46 AM)_ : I’ve thought about it doing it before, I’ve just been worried about long-term effects on my skin. I’ll do research and get back to you.

_To Kurt (11:47 AM)_ : You’re amazing, I am going to do anything you want for your next birthday, literally anything

_To Blaine (11:48 AM)_ : I’ll keep that in mind. One more thing: I’m pretty sure I was wearing leggings under these shorts that first time I wore them. Should I repeat the layering for authenticity or would you rather I go without? 

_To Kurt (11:49 AM)_ : I am perfectly willing to sacrifice authenticity for the sake of seeing your bare legs under those shorts

_To Blaine (11:51 AM)_ : Okay. Stop texting during class. I’ll see you later. XO

*** 

When Kurt finds himself a few days later on all fours in fluorescent lighting, legs, crotch, and balls stinging as an elderly woman applies warm wax to the insides of his ass crack, he notes with red-cheeked embarrassment that he’s decidedly never felt  _less_  like his seventeen year old self.

***

_To Kurt (1:14 PM)_ : I know it’s fast approaching, but I was wondering if it’d be possible to cover your tattoo for birthday night

_To Blaine (1:15 PM)_ : I was obviously going to be doing that whether you suggested it or not.

_To Kurt (1:16 PM)_ : <3 

_To Blaine (1:18 PM)_ : By the way, I’m smooth as a baby all over. I determined that with enough aftercare I could swing the one-time wax.

_To Kurt (1:19 PM)_ : Kurt oh my god all over?

  _To Blaine (1:20 PM)_ : The session entailed an elderly woman complimenting me on my asshole, so you’d better be grateful.

_To Kurt (1:20 PM)_ : OH MY GOD

_To Kurt (1:21 PM)_ : I am

_To Blaine (1:22 PM)_ : Well, the entire lower half of my body is now off-limits until birthday night, so save it all up.

_To Kurt (1:23 PM)_ : I clearly didn’t think this through

_To Blaine (1:24 PM)_ : It’ll be worth it. :) 

***

Kurt stands in a pair of solid red briefs, examining himself carefully in the mirror as the smell of hairspray still hangs thick in the lingering post-shower humidity of the bathroom. He delicately brushes his hair where it’s swept to one side, hanging artfully just over his left eyebrow. Blaine hadn’t been wrong: he looks remarkably youthful, the chestnut sweep over his forehead somehow rounding out the harsher edges of his face and widening his eyes.

A thin layer of peach-pink blush applied just over the apples of his cheeks emphasizes the sprightly prettiness of the face blinking back at him, just as he’d expected it would. His mouth spreads into a wide smile, contented and practically buzzing with excitement. Kurt has been teetering on the verge of arousal since he woke up this morning, having had to force himself to resist the urge to jerk off when he’d sent Blaine off hours ago for a day of birthday festivities with Sam, who Kurt had flown to New York as a surprise. Sam would get him for the day while Kurt prepared the elaborate meal he’d been obsessing over for the past month, currently warming in the stove.

Kurt, reasoning that his newfound hairlessness made nude cooking acceptable, had spent the day chopping, seasoning, and sautéing clad only in his apron. He’s felt sensual and hedonistic, moving around the kitchen space that is now his more than ever and mentally bracing himself for the night ahead with a lot less nervousness than he’d expected of himself. He checks his phone and notes with a flutter in his belly that Blaine is due to arrive in just about twenty minutes.

They’d discussed the terms of exactly what would happen a couple of nights prior. Kurt had pushed for an omission of the “empty classroom” detail, urging very strongly that no version of himself, fantasy or not, would willingly bend themselves over a table on a spontaneous whim with no room for mental or physical preparation. Blaine had laughed, but agreed that they could change the setting, noting, with a breathless whisper, that he’d be happy to have Kurt bend over  _anything_ , anywhere. They agreed together that they could take fantasy-Blaine’s fantasy-apartment as their meeting place, leaving the sanctity of their Dalton staircase out of it entirely.

Kurt brings himself to stop fiddling with his hair, moving into the bedroom where his outfit is carefully strewn out across the bed. The sensation of his smooth, hairless thighs rubbing against one another still feels new, and he can’t wait to let Blaine touch. He’s been careful to shield himself from Blaine’s nosy eyes and hands, wanting him to experience Kurt in his smooth-skinned glory for the first time beneath his schoolboy outfit.

Stroking the material of the plaid shorts before him for just a moment before picking them up, Kurt slides his silky, long legs into them, zipping them with little effort. They still fit snugly but comfortably around his hips, though, as he’d informed Blaine, the hems lie several inches above the knee after the series of growth spurts he’s since gone through.

Aware that Blaine’s arrival is imminent, Kurt makes quicker work of slipping into the white button-down, red tie, and blazer, before dropping his legs into the knee-high lace-up boots that will complete the look. With a small shiver, he turns to consider himself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. The innocence of his face feels at odds with the sinfulness of the rest of his body: while the trench blazer does an adequate job of covering up some of the muscle bulk he’s acquired over the years, the several inches of pale skin peeking out between his shorts and boots are obscene in their suggestiveness. He wonders, momentarily, if he really should have opted to locate a longer pair of shorts, Blaine be damned, before deciding the tension between youthful purity and lascivious fetishism that his ensemble pulls together is ideal in its own way. Here he is, rosy-cheeked and smelling of the soap he’d favored in high school (a detail he’d felt was important.) He’s an almost-immaculate picture of classical schoolboy decency, only cleaned-out and waxed-up and porn-star-perfect.

With a final once-over in the mirror, Kurt makes his way to the living room, deciding to sit on the top edge of the couch. He balances himself precariously atop it, hoping Blaine isn’t late because it isn’t exactly the most comfortable of positions, before crossing his legs and situating his hands neatly over a raised, bare knee. When Blaine pulls the door open, he’ll be almost immediately greeted by the sight of Kurt facing him like this, shorts hiked up so even more thigh is on display. He feels a thrill rush through him, heat already pooling in his groin.

After a few charged minutes of excitedly maintaining this position, Kurt finally, finally hears the beginnings of the loft door creeping open. He sits up straighter, face flushing. Blaine, dressed casually in a black polo and red pants, smiles warmly at the sight of him, dropping his bag onto the floor by the door before pacing toward Kurt.

“I see you made yourself at home,” Blaine says, voice measured, eyes trained fixedly on Kurt’s face.

“Yes,” Kurt responds, ensuring his voice is just a touch higher and breathier than his usual. “I’m sorry, I got here a little early and you mentioned that I could head in without knocking, so…” 

“It’s great to see you again. You look even more gorgeous now than you did this afternoon.”

“O-oh,” Kurt falters, careful to allow his mouth to fall open in the likeness of flustered shock. “I’ve been…I’ve been thinking of you all day. Your eyes and your mouth especially.”

Blaine smirks at that, moving in and placing a hand on the leg closest to him. Kurt feels goosebumps crop up over every exposed part of him. Blaine leans in, face centimeters away from Kurt, holding him up with an arm around his waist when Kurt startles a little and nearly loses his balance.

“Have you ever been kissed by a boy before, Kurt?” Blaine asks, voice low and eyes fiery. 

_Oh. He’s getting right to it, then._  Kurt had been preparing for agonizingly long stretches of verbal back-and-forth, but this is better. They’ve both waited long enough. He bites back the urge to dwell discontentedly on the utter implausibility of the scenario that has somehow only just become clear to him, a feat that becomes significantly easier when Blaine’s still hand on his knee inches slowly upward, fingertips resting just under the hem of his shorts.

“No, I…I haven’t,” Kurt squeaks, voice high in what he worries sounds like a mockery of himself, but Blaine doesn’t seem to mind or notice.  _Seventeen and never been kissed_ , he thinks, feeling his heart sink a little before he can help it, because there’s Karofsky in his head again. It’s hard not to recall that when he’d  _really_  met Blaine that statement would only be true for a devastatingly short amount of time. 

When Blaine presses his lips against his own, soft and gentle and almost chaste, Kurt notes that it may be no match for  _their_ real first kiss, but it certainly beats his own, weighed down as it is with the memory of fear, repulsion, and the musky smells of the locker room around him. 

Blaine pulls back, moving the hand on Kurt’s thigh up to his face. Kurt thinks he must be trembling a little, because Blaine eyes him worriedly. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyes pointed, and Kurt knows the question is meant as more than just part of their play. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Kurt assures him, and he means it, snapping back into character with a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Can you kiss me again?” 

“Of course,” and Blaine’s leaning in, opening his mouth to slip his tongue against Kurt’s. He uses the hand not currently situated at Kurt’s waist to knock one of his legs down, parting his thighs and posturing himself between them. Kurt looks down and realizes with a dizzying, stunned jolt that Blaine is already hard, crotch bulging noticeably in his pants as Blaine’s mouth moves fast and sure against Kurt’s more passive and tentative tongue. 

Kurt moans, high-pitched and overwhelmed, and Blaine presses harder against him in reply, pushing him far back enough that the hand firmly around his waist is the only thing keeping him from tumbling backward. Kurt feels his heart rate escalate and his cock stiffen, equal parts nervous and turned on: under normal circumstances he’d immediately seek more steady grounding for himself, but this is Blaine’s night, and he knows that this is exactly what Blaine wants right now, to feel like he alone stands between Kurt and uncertain menace. Kurt clings to him tightly, an arm wrapped around his neck, reminding himself that this was exactly what he’d agreed to when he’d given Blaine his _yes_. 

“Kurt,” Blaine groans, lips moving down to rub against Kurt’s neck, just behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Kurt’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he frantically grips the thick fabric of Blaine’s polo, bunching the cloth beneath a fist. Arching his back, Kurt feels his erection press against Blaine’s stomach, whose whole body moves forward to meet him as Kurt’s ass slides entirely off the thin edge of the couch top. He wraps his legs securely around Blaine’s hips, muscles tensing as he begins to slowly rut his crotch against him. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—” Blaine looks up at Kurt at the sound of his voice, lip between his teeth as he watches Kurt feign mortification, hips stilling. 

“Don’t apologize, I love it,” Blaine’s growling into his ear, cautiously dropping a hand between their bodies to rest it, softly, at Kurt’s clothed cock. “May I?” 

Kurt pushes his hips up and into Blaine’s palm, tightening the grip of his thighs around him when the movement threatens to make him lose his balance. Blaine moves his palm expertly until Kurt is helpless against him, venting breathy whines that he doesn’t even have to try to fake. 

Blaine presses another kiss to Kurt’s neck, nibbling on an ear lobe and whispering into his ear, “Put your legs down, let’s get you standing.” 

Kurt complies, ass sliding off the couch top. Blaine’s hand works diligently at his crotch through the entire fluid motion. He leans back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, as Blaine gives him a few final brushes, forehead pressed against Kurt’s cheek and eyes moving down the length of his body. 

“We need to get some of these clothes off of you,” Blaine’s face is warm, his voice more a suggestion than a hard demand, though it’s nonetheless a bit of both. A long graceful hand moves to toy with the collar of Kurt’s blazer, teasing and questioning. 

“Okay.” Kurt begins work on a button, but Blaine pulls his hand away.

“Let me,” he whispers, popping the buttons open in quick succession and pushing the blazer off where it’s grown so tight around Kurt’s broad shoulders. He gives the red tie a playful tug before allowing himself the momentary distraction of another heated kiss. “Hmm, I might leave this on. What do you think?” 

“The tie?” Kurt feels another surge of warmth at the thought of himself heaving and bare-chested but for his schoolboy tie still wrapped around his neck. 

“Mmhmm,” Blaine’s running his lips against the base of Kurt’s throat, the humming noise increasing the sensation. He pulls away to consider Kurt’s face, flushed deep even beneath the artificial pink of his makeup. “The tie and the boots, I think, how does that sound?”

Kurt can hear his heartbeat in his ears, sure that Blaine must be able to feel it where his tongue has resumed position at his neck. “Whatever— whatever you’d like,” Kurt manages, beginning to worry he’s going to sweat through his thin white button-down if Blaine doesn’t get it off soon.

Hoping to expedite the undressing process, he threatens to begin unbuttoning the top himself, smiling when Blaine laughs, gets the hint, and rapidly repeats the process of removal he’d demonstrated on the blazer. Kurt juts his chest out on instinct before remembering how shy he’d been back at seventeen, catching himself and remedying the situation by crossing his arms across his chest, the hard nubs of his nipples rubbing against his wrists.

“I’m sorry, no one’s ever seen me—”

“Not even in the locker room?” Blaine’s eyes hungrily roam the expanse of Kurt’s chest and torso, partially covered as it is by long arms. 

“No,” Kurt says, voice small, trying desperately not to let the mention of a locker room trigger more unpleasant thoughts. He’s half-naked, about to get his waxed asshole fucked hard as his kinky knee-high boots rub against Blaine’s calves. It’s Blaine’s birthday, Blaine wants this, wants  _him_ , they’re sexy and happy and he’s fine. He presses his arms a little closer against himself. 

Blaine places soft fingers at Kurt’s wrists. “I want to see, can I see?” When Kurt nods weakly, Blaine pulls his arms to the side, encouraging Kurt to stand up straighter with a hand at the base of his spine.

Blessedly distracted from the whirring unpleasantries of being inside his own head, Kurt finds himself wanting to look down, wanting to shamelessly appreciate the snowy white of his own svelte torso and the bright red tie hanging loosely between his stingingly hard nipples, but reminds himself to simulate self-consciousness. He looks away, yelping in surprise when Blaine presses two dry thumb tips against each perky nipple. The rhythmic soft strokes send pulses of arousal down his spine, to his cock, until even his asshole is quivering with want.

 Kurt’s panting heavily. He hadn’t imagined how  _hot_  this would be, standing motionless as Blaine stares and works at him, all his attention focused on getting Kurt comfortable and aroused. The fact that Blaine finds him enticing enough to spend whole minutes doing nothing more than playing with his nipples is almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his fingertips themselves, fantastic as they are against the sensitive pink peaks. Kurt’s starting to think he may have gotten the better end of this birthday deal, but you’d never be able to tell looking at Blaine’s face, awed and flushed and disbelievingly gleeful.

“Blaine, I need—” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Blaine drops his hands reluctantly to the button on Kurt’s shorts, running a finger along the zipper and the massive bulge distorting its natural shape. “You’re so beautiful, look at you, your waist and your collarbones and your chest…” 

At Blaine’s urging, Kurt does look. He moans. He’s lost the self-consciousness he’d carried with him throughout high school (and even after), but still nothing fluffs him up like watching Blaine  _watch_  him. His nipples are pretty and erect, worked enough to nearly match the shade of red of the tie resting between them. The stretch of his torso looks even longer than usual without the trail of hair he’s accustomed to seeing below his belly button, and his pale stomach is flat as a board above the prominent swell at his crotch. 

Blaine’s pulling the zipper of his shorts down, mindful of the hypersensitive bulge beneath it. He looks up at Kurt, smiling animatedly. “Oh my god, Kurt, I’ve been  _dying_  to see it.”

Kurt bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It’s not the most appropriate thing to say to a virginal teenager fumbling his way through a first sexual encounter, but he knows Blaine’s  _really_  referring to the wax job he’d requested. He’s already gotten a small glimpse of his legs in the shorts, but seeing Kurt completely sans pubic hair has been one of the promises of tonight that Blaine had been most fixated on. Kurt had spent the past couple of days stubbornly covering himself up and swatting his hands away when Blaine tried to see or feel, insisting it’d be better experienced in the context of their co-authored fantasy. 

“I hope it can live up to your expectations,” Kurt mumbles, hoping the wry amusement lurking beneath the sentiment doesn’t shatter the illusion too dramatically. 

Blaine drops to his knees to pull the shorts down, immediately running his lips against the smoothness of Kurt’s inner thigh. Kurt shifts with a grunt, gently kicking the shorts off from around his boots without interrupting Blaine’s reverential thigh worship. The outline of Kurt’s cock is lewdly visible through the stretchy red fabric only barely containing it, and Kurt feels a thrill when he notes how aesthetically perfect this state of undress is: red tie, red briefs, and black boots covering up only small pieces of lithe, creamy skin. That Blaine still hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing himself only intensifies the prickling at the base of Kurt’s spine.

Kurt gasps when Blaine rubs the tip of his nose against his cloth-covered dick, opening his mouth to breathe and then close over the head. The warmth and light moisture is  _incredible_. The barrier of his briefs would ordinarily dull the feel of this, but it’s been two full days since Blaine last touched him there and he’s been teasing himself all fucking day and this is so much, so fast, that he falls back against the couch with a voiceless cry.

“To think, you’ve never had your cock sucked before,” Blaine’s growling, red briefs now hanging around the middles of Kurt’s thighs as Blaine pauses, staring ravenously at Kurt’s cock: pink, engorged, and shockingly unfamiliar without the trimmed but dark thatch of hair it’s always been nestled within. “Wow, Kurt, oh my god,” Blaine exhales, running a hand along the newly exposed skin surrounding his dick. It feels so different, intimate and new, and Kurt marvels at the fact that the simple removal of hair has made this feel like a genuine first time for both of them.

_Good idea, Blaine_ , he thinks, staring down at where the pale bronze of his hand is caressing the white pink of Kurt’s inner hip, face still only centimeters away from the straining tip of his penis. Kurt hadn’t allowed himself to reach full erection since getting the wax, so even he is a touch startled to see how  _large_ he looks like this. Much as he loves every strand of Blaine’s hair, he’s tempted to ask that he try the wax thing at least once so Kurt can encounter his dick like this, bigger than ever and surrounded by an expanse of unseen flesh.

Blaine closes the space between his face and Kurt’s tip, kissing it with a teasing lick. A smirk crosses his face when Kurt squeals and leans more of his weight against the couch, knees unsteady. “Yes?” Blaine asks, eyelids heavy and mouth still smug, face inching back forward before Kurt even has a chance to gather the strength to confirm, “Yes, god, please.”

Mid-inhale, there’s a tight grip on his ass and wet sucking heat around the head of his cock. Blaine allows him only a moment to adjust before he’s sliding down the entire length, slowly at first and then brutally fast, making soft noises at the very back of his throat as his neck works furiously. Kurt’s squirming, bucking up against Blaine’s face despite his most genuine efforts to stay respectably still, his ass cheeks clenching as he tries to find footing in the undulations of brain-melting pleasure moving up and down his prick, down then up again as Blaine’s warm wet tongue swings back and forth along the underside. When Blaine’s pinky grips hard enough behind him to slip between the crack of his ass, another hand moving to stroke at the tender crease between leg and hip, mouth growing surer and faster, Kurt has to drop a hand to his neck, slowing him as he feels his balls contract— 

“Blaine ohmygod you need to stop I’m going to come I’m going to—”

Just milliseconds before Kurt thinks all hope is lost, Blaine draws back, saliva dripping down his rubbed-red chin. Blaine stands up, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and resuming attack on his lips, carefully avoiding brushing his own crotch against Kurt’s where it’s dripping, twitching, and still due to explode at any moment. “Cool down, cool down,” Blaine whispers between kisses, Kurt’s tongue resting at the edge of his mouth, “I want to make sure you come for the first time when I’m inside you.” 

Kurt slows his breathing, pulling back to collect himself. “I’m sorry, I’ve been on edge all day,” dropping his hand from Blaine’s shoulder to a firm bicep, skimming from cloth to flesh. “I mean, um, since this afternoon,” Kurt corrects, remembering the fragile fantasy resting on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, it’s your first time, it’s to be expected,” Blaine reminds him, committed. Something unreadable crosses his face, and he hesitates for just a moment before speaking again.“Can you bend over the side of the couch? I want to see your asshole.”

Kurt blinks, sincerely taken aback. They’ve gotten bolder in the in-bed requests they’ve made of each other in the past few weeks, but Blaine isn’t usually so stone-faced and blunt. Kurt wonders if Blaine has constructed his own roleplay character without telling him. He’s been falling deeper into unfamiliar character as the night has progressed.

“My—? I’m not…you’re not even naked yet!” His response is a little more wide-eyed hysterical than it needs to be, he knows, but he’s feeling suddenly out of the loop, ridiculous with his briefs still hanging around his thighs.

Blaine’s face falls. He leans in to whisper into Kurt’s ear. “Oh god, I’m sorry, is this weird? Do you not like this? I’m kind of nervous.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be…being not yourself,” Kurt whispers back, thankful for this aside.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but then I saw you and you looked, just,  _wow_ , and I wanted to be…better for you.”

“Better?”

“I don’t know. More confident, or something?”

“Okay. Are you liking it?”

“Yes,” Blaine confesses, voice low. “Are you?”

 “I think I can be into it, now that I know what you’re going for. Okay. Let us resume.”

“Wait, wait — are you going to make me repeat the last line?”

Kurt smiles. “Yes. Now snap back into character before both our erections deflate.”

Kurt’s posture changes immediately as he hunches forward, arms curled protectively around himself. When Blaine only stares, seemingly thrown off by their confessional detour, Kurt clears his throat. “What was that you wanted me to do?” He asks pointedly, voice high and face tilted innocently downward.

“Oh. Um. Yes.” Blaine stands up straighter, recommencing the production. “I want you to bend over the side of the couch so I can see your asshole.” Blaine stares, unblinking, inspirited by Kurt’s whispered approval, and this time Kurt feels the statement resonate in his cock. This is…new. And hot. And will probably be kind of funny in retrospect, but. Still hot.

Kurt nods, walking over to where Blaine wants him, briefs sliding down around his boot-encased ankles.

“Kick them off,” Blaine suggests, so he does, sweeping them to the side before finally bending over, elbows pressed against the cushion of the couch and ass high in the air. He’s a little sad his position makes it so that Blaine can’t see how intensely he’s blushing, but figures the sight of knee-high boots and smooth thick thighs leading up to his round ass must be satisfying enough.

He hears Blaine move behind him, then feels his hands teasingly hover over the backs of Kurt’s thighs. “Spread your legs,” Blaine commands, and Kurt bites back a moan. Blaine’s growing comfort with the game is almost hotter than the demands themselves. Almost. Kurt spreads his legs as far as he can, leaning forward until he’s more tightly pressed against the cushion, hoping to give Blaine the best possible display.

Unsatisfied, Blaine grips Kurt’s ass cheeks and parts them himself, opening wide. Kurt inhales, chest tightening and eyes screwing shut. He feels himself twitch beneath Blaine’s steady gaze, startling when Blaine runs a dry thumb tip down the length of his crack. He shifts his hips slightly, angling his ass closer toward Blaine in hopes of getting more contact where he’s so oversensitive.

“I love your asshole,” Blaine breathes, voice catching. “Would you let me take a picture of it, looking like this, right now?”

Kurt opens his eyes, peeking over his shoulder to see Blaine gaping unblinkingly where Kurt’s spread beneath his hands. “Um,” Kurt hesitates.

It’s not as if they’re strangers to racy photos, but their past experiences with them have tended to resemble the kind of nudes you might see hanging artfully in a bedroom. This would patently  _not_  meet that criteria. It is Blaine’s birthday, though. He trusts him beyond measure, and the body part in question is looking prettier and more camera perfect than it ever will again. They’re kinky and  _roleplaying_  and, well, fuck it. “Yes,” Kurt decides, a tremble running down his spine.

Blaine presses a light, dry kiss directly on his hole in thanks, lips slightly chapped. Kurt emits a high-pitched garble and arches his back, whining. He can’t see, but he  _knows_ Blaine is grinning.

“Hold yourself open for me,” Blaine grunts, moving his hands and allowing Kurt’s cheeks to bounce back together with a quiet smack. Kurt obeys, balancing his weight onto the side of his face as he reaches his arms back and takes the two mounds in hand, fingertips resting along the tender edges of his crack as he unfurls himself.

He can hear Blaine reaching into his pocket to grab his phone, and he shimmies his hips appreciably when he’s reminded that Blaine has him utterly exposed like this while still fully clothed himself. It’s a little embarrassing and stimulating as  _hell._

Noting that the sounds of Blaine’s shoes indicate that he’s backing away, Kurt realizes with a shiver that he wants a photo of the entire sight first, Kurt’s hands spreading himself open over long white legs closing off into black leather boots. Kurt is painfully turned on, struggling to keep still as the throb in his cock begs him to press himself against the nearest available surface (there’s a pillow that looks promising) and rut away.

After a few moments, he feels Blaine inches behind him again, moving in close. “Gorgeous,” he says, finally. “Do you want to see?”

“Yes,” Kurt replies immediately. He’s a little nervous, but too curious to deny himself the sight. Blaine seemed to like them, so it would probably be fine.

“Keep yourself open, I’ll hold the phone up for you.” Blaine’s at his side, gingerly moving Kurt’s head up as much as his position will allow. As promised, he places the phone a few inches from Kurt’s face where he can best focus on the lit-up screen.

His heart thrums wildly in his chest as he looks upon the first picture, the one Blaine had taken from further away. It’s even more obscene than Kurt had mentally pictured, and Kurt delights in how completely and utterly  _fuckable_ he looks in it. The upper half of his body is obscured from view, only hands, legs, and ass visible. His inner parts aren’t too perceptible from the distance of the photo, but his ass looks incredible, the fat of his cheeks bulging out between Kurt’s fingers. Their roundness contrasts against the firm muscle of his thighs, thick but long, stretching on and on in opposite directions until they disappear within the boots that begin right below his knee. He’s pale but healthily flushed, and his only regret is that the photo doesn’t capture the red tie still hanging around his neck. 

He’s vaguely wondering whether or not they should take some more pictures post-sex when Blaine slides over to the next photo and his eyes just about bulge out of his head. It’s the close-up shot and Kurt’s half convinced that Blaine saved the photo from a porn site and is only pretending it’s really him because…woah. In all honesty, Kurt has never fully understood Blaine’s interest in his asshole. He’s enjoyed Blaine’s the times that he’s felt comfortable enough with Blaine’s assurances of cleanliness to allow himself to, but Blaine’s eagerness to lick, touch, and look has always escaped him. Looking at this picture now, though, he thinks he gets it, sees the appeal of the way his unblemished white flesh fades into sepia pink, sloping down to the furrowed pucker framing a small, dark hole.

“Oh my,” he manages, shifting his hips forward to brush his dick against a tall pillow that he can just barely reach beneath him, exhaling in relief at the brief, teasing friction. Keeping his head upright enough to stare at the phone screen proves too uncomfortable, so he rests his cheek sideways on the cushion, closing his eyes and breathing hard. Blaine makes no indication that he’s planning on moving, apparently perfectly satiated for the time being to just stare down at Kurt laid across and over the sofa. Under normal circumstances, Kurt would have snapped by now, but the rules of tonight are different. He settles for continuing to rut minutely, careful to keep the movement insignificant enough that he has no chance of nutting early.

Blaine’s watching him move, rests a warm hand on his back. “You liked seeing yourself spread out like that.” Kurt nods his assent with a pained hum, hips moving faster. “You’re so hot. I’m so lucky I get to be the first to see you like this, before anyone’s had a chance to even think about it.” 

The sentiment threatens to spark something ugly in Kurt’s mind, but his arms are thankfully beginning to ache from being raised up to hold his ass open and he can’t focus. He makes a pleading noise, opening up his eyes to look at Blaine who is blessedly beginning to undress, pulling his polo over his head to reveal his tan flushed chest and the soft swell of his belly that Kurt loves so much. The pants are off next and Kurt eyes the bulge pushing through his boxer briefs hungrily, any worries that Blaine’s erection may have faded in the photo-taking process happily dissipated.

It’s only moments later that Blaine’s standing completely naked in front of him, erect cock bobbing impressively. He leans down to kiss Kurt on his red-hot shoulder before moving behind him, releasing Kurt’s hold on himself and pushing his arms down.

He shifts onto his knees between Kurt’s still spread legs, face so close to Kurt’s ass that he can feel the heat coming off him in waves. It dawns on Kurt with a cock-throbbing thrill what’s coming next, and the excitement has barely registered before his cheeks are parted once more and Blaine’s face is nuzzled within his crack. He’s moaning in mere anticipation of the feel of Blaine’s wriggling tongue in his ass, a steady series of urgent noises that crescendo into proper cries when Blaine licks a long streak directly over his hole, tongue flat and pressure exquisitely hard. He’s lapping his tongue up and down, persistent strokes that have Kurt’s rim widening and pinching closed again in steady rhythm, warmth shooting up his spine and through his limbs as he rocks back against Blaine’s face. Kurt makes a strangled sound that sounds like a sob when Blaine points his tongue and pushes it in as far as it will go, shallowly fucking in and out as Kurt’s walls soften around it.

Kurt exhales with a choked  _oh_  when Blaine pulls out, giving Kurt a sloppy, misfired kiss just above his hole. Blaine releases Kurt’s ass cheeks, getting back to his feet in the time it takes them to bounce back together. He takes the fleshy swells back in hand, jiggling them and making a wordless  _mmmphhhh_ sound in appreciation.

Blaine moves over to his discarded pants quickly to retrieve the small bottle of lube he’d kept all day in his pocket, and Kurt smiles to himself, knowing Blaine must have felt it against his hip every time he’d sat down, shifted, or taken a step. Kurt moves a hand up to his own nipple, playing with himself absently as he imagines Blaine hyperconscious of the lube in his pocket, thinking of Kurt cooking naked, washing himself out, and sliding his waxed body into a years-old, too-small outfit.

His contented thoughts are sharply cut off by a swiveling, lubed-up thumb tip against his asshole, softly pressing in. Kurt pinches his nipple hard enough to hurt, needing the sting to ground him and keep him from taking himself in hand and coming in two strokes. The thumb is replaced with a knuckle, a blunt pressure that overwhelms the lingering pain in his sensitive nipple.

Kurt gasps, drop his hand to his side. “Blaine, I don’t want to…I don’t want to rush you, but I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last.” His voice is squeaky and uncontained, mouth hanging open in soundless pleasure even after the sentence has been completed. He knows he should let Blaine move at his own pace, but reasons that even his seventeen-year-old self would have spoken up and risked disapproval rather than embarrassing himself by coming with just a knuckle pressed against him.

“Oh, of course,” Blaine is clearly going for ‘amused’ but Kurt is pleased to note he sounds just as far gone as Kurt feels. “Don’t be embarrassed, your virgin hole is of course going to be extra sensitive.”

Kurt doesn’t think there will ever be a state of arousal powerful enough to aid him in resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the phrase ‘virgin hole,’ but Blaine has poked the tip of a slippery finger into him and he squeaks with a jolt before he can finish the action. Blaine wriggles the few centimeters of finger inside him for several moments, and Kurt doesn’t think he’s ever felt so pliant and jelly-soft down there.

Growing impatient with Blaine’s teasing, writhing fingertip, Kurt squeezes around it, pulling it in further with a victorious grunt. Blaine laughs weakly and shoves it the rest of the way in, before pulling out just enough to slip another one in. Blaine’s probing gently, searching until he brushes against the prostate and Kurt wheezes. He rocks the edges of his finger against it in quick, shallow rhythm, Kurt’s sharp intakes of breaths turning into moans on the way out of his mouth. 

He knows Blaine’s ‘virgin’ fantasy is conducive to several more minutes of preparatory fingering, but Kurt is feeling closer to the edge than ever and _needs_ the vague ache of Blaine’s thick cock cutting into him to have the hope of lasting at least another five minutes. He purposefully makes his intakes of breath squeakier and his exhaling moans deeper, hoping Blaine will grasp the gravity of his proximity to earth-shattering orgasm without forcing Kurt to speak up again.

It’s an effective strategy, because Blaine’s fingers are shortly popping out wetly and he’s mumbling something ridiculous about fucking Kurt’s virgin hole again. Kurt opts to focus instead on the squelching sounds of him lubing his dick up with a fist, Kurt’s asshole twitching in anticipation.

“Mmm, yes,” Kurt whimpers when the thick head of Blaine’s cock pushes against and lingers momentarily at his rim. Blaine’s still for long enough that Kurt considers spitefully making a comment about the irresponsibility of allowing a virginal stranger to get fucked for the first time without a condom, but then the head is pushing inside, vague, edgeless pain kicks in, and Kurt simply grunts gratefully. 

Blaine inches in, slowly as he had during their  _real_  first time, and Kurt hums happily, pushing his hole open to move the process along. When he feels Blaine’s hard hips resting against his ass, Kurt breathes in deep, allowing his body to adjust to the fullness. He sighs, ecstatic, loving being able to surrender to his pleasure properly now that the faint pain allows him some small measure of control over when to let himself fall over the edge of climax. The uninhibited pleasure of getting his asshole licked out and his prostate poked with a slim, effortless digit is always too much.

Blaine pulls out and back in again in a quick, fluid motion, rough enough to topple Kurt off of his elbows and back onto the side of his face, squealing at the stretch and intense pressure. Blaine doesn’t hesitate before repeating the movement, each thrust coming quicker and harder, rough jabs against Kurt’s prostate sending flickers of fiery pleasure to his nipples and cock before the blunt stab of re-entry grounds him again. He slowly budges toward the possibility of orgasm with each vicious plunge, ass cheeks jiggling against Blaine’s hip and face scraping over the scratchy fabric of the cum-ready sheet beneath him.

When Blaine senses him tightening, groans growing more breathless and high-pitched, he switches to the shallower, faster thrusts that he’s learned through experience help Kurt finish. Kurt knows he can take himself in hand at any moment and come within seconds, balls achingly tight, but he lets himself ride this out, lets Blaine’s cock push him closer and closer with its expert blows deep inside him. He’s suddenly curious to know if he could manage climax just from this, from the oscillating pleasure and tenderness of the thick member moving hard and fast, in and out, so good then so rough, his own cock brushing against his hairless stomach with every jolt — “ _Ungh,” —_

He’s about to give up, exhausted and agonizingly close, when he’s met with the unfamiliar feel of Blaine’s palm meeting his ass in a soft slap. He gasps, shouts “ _again_ ” before he’s even processed what’s happening, and feels it against his left cheek once more, sharper and harder, then again, and again, and with a final knife-sharp smack he comes, screaming, spurts of thick white cum shooting out, coating his stomach and dripping down to the sheet below him. 

His ass is on  _fire_ and he’s gasping helplessly, shuddering through the remaining vestiges of his climax as he hears Blaine’s steady pants devolve into arrhythmic grunts, deepening in pitch and growing more frantic as he thrusts harder and harder, Kurt’s name on his lips trapped between incomprehensible groans. Kurt’s gone limp, Blaine’s hands on his hips keeping his ass in place as he fucks away, sweat dripping onto Kurt’s back and trickling down over his neck.

“Oh, Blaine, I’m so sensitive, my tight little virgin hole can’t take—”

He’s being cheeky, but it succeeds in sending Blaine over the edge, crying out with a final bruising ram as he comes inside Kurt and falls forward, knocking them both onto the sofa, panting and sweating. 

“Holy shit,” Blaine breathes into his neck, chest heaving Kurt’s shoulder blade.

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, head buzzing and conscious of little beyond Blaine’s cock smearing lube onto his upper thigh and the still-sharp sting of his ass cheek.

“I don’t…”

“That wasn’t…what I was expecting.” Kurt laughs, body heavy and content. “Can you…I want to sit up?” 

“Yeah. Okay. I can do that. Sure.” Blaine pants for several more seconds before getting back to his feet, staggering to the other side of the sofa and plopping down with a dramatic exhale. 

Kurt sits up, trying to rub lube off the back of his thigh and his ass on the sheet before turning to look at Blaine, who is red and sweat-drenched and still panting like he ran a day-long marathon. Kurt laughs, strained but full, looking down at the red tie half-undone across his chest and the lace-up boots still around his calves.

“That was ridiculous.” 

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, looking over at him finally, eyes heavy and smile wide. “You’re amazing.”

Kurt laughs again. “I’m pretty sure my legs are so sweaty beneath these boots that I’m going to have to throw them out.”

Blaine makes a complaining noise. “No, I love them.” 

“ _You_  can wash them then,” Kurt leans back with a stretch, muscles aching from being bent over for so long. “So. Spanking, huh?”

“I don’t know where that came from. It just seemed right. I’d apologize, but you seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did. Wow. Who knew?”

Kurt inches closer to Blaine, resting his head down against a sweat-damp shoulder. They sit, breathing hard and nuzzled against each other, for several, long minutes.

As the various pains and aches in Kurt’s body subside, his brain functions kick back up, and he’s finding himself dangerously close to falling back to the ugly place. He looks at Blaine, whose face betrays no emotion beyond blissful blankness, and wonders if he should say anything.

Blaine speaks first, like he’s read his mind. “Was that hard for you? It occurred to me about halfway through that it might be hard for you. The talk of…first kisses, and all that.” His brow is furrowed.

“You know, it wasn’t. There were a couple of moments where I thought about… _him_ , you know, but you always distracted me immediately. Including just now, actually.”

Blaine smiles wide. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I thought doing this, putting on the skin of baby-Kurt, might make me feel…I don’t know, empowered or something. Like I took something back.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” Kurt laughs. “To be honest, I didn’t feel much like younger-me at all. It was fun, though. New. We should try weird stuff more often.”

Blaine laughs. “So what I’m taking from this is that I can pee on you next time?”

“Oh my god, Blaine, do you  _really_  want to pee on me or are you just torturing me for mentioning it that one time?”

“I’m teasing. I think. I don’t know. You like being spanked, turns out. Who knows where our sexual exploration will take us in the future.”

Kurt giggles. He eyes Blaine carefully, breathing deep before asking something he’s been thinking about since that first conversation all those mornings ago. “So, the younger, virgin-me thing. Why? I mean, was it just an aesthetic thing, or…?”

Blaine shrugs, looks away. “I don’t know. I think about you like that a lot. I guess sometimes I just feel like…I wish I’d known sooner. I wish I’d kissed you first.” 

Kurt chest warms, eyes prickling. “Oh. Blaine.” 

“We did alright, though, I think.”

“We definitely did,” Kurt agrees, beaming. 

“So what’s this I hear about a  _romantic dinner_?” Blaine’s moved his hand to Kurt’s thigh, grinning. “You must be hungry.”

“God. I am. I haven’t had any solid food in hours.”

Blaine laughs, tugs at the tie around his neck. “Okay. Let’s shower, and then we will feast on the sure-to-be magnificent meal you’ve created.” 

“And you’ll be rubbing ointment of some kind on my poor, red ass.” 

“Mmmm. Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday to you, indeed,” Kurt agrees, kissing him long and hard on the mouth.

 


End file.
